


THE HOODED HUNK'S RANDY RAMPAGE

by felandaris



Series: The Hooded Hunk of Skyhold and other bad smut catastrophies [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bad Puns, Bad Smut, Euphemisms, F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Group Sex, Humor, Orgy, Parody, Romance Novel, Scout Jim - Freeform, Smut, Smutty Literature, Spanking, grand finales, milky mounds, raging rods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 03:54:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10180118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felandaris/pseuds/felandaris
Summary: He's back... and he has a need!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eravalefantasy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eravalefantasy/gifts).



> This is the ~~long-awaited~~ sequel to [The Hooded Hunk of Skyhold](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8207956) (which you won't need to have read) and my entry to another bad smut challenge.  
>  It is also a gift to the one and only Eravalefantasy, the best and most versatile writer I know in this fandom. Whether it's Cullen's feelsy diaries, a snarky crossover or hyper-over-the-top smut parodies, the woman nails it every time. Do yourself a favour and check out her work.  
> But now gather those bouncy bosoms and lusty looks and get reading!  
> Or [read on Tumblr with cover art!](http://cullenstairshenanigans.tumblr.com/post/158153566428/the-hooded-hunks-randy-rampage-hes-back-and-he)

The stable floors rocked in a steady Rumba rhythm. True love's musky bouquet overpowered the mundane manure lingering below.

Silken locks fanned out on a bed of awed straw in a golden halo of peroxide perfection. Flawless skin was blossoming in the healthy crimson of a ripe tomato. The titillating topography of milky mounds rose and fell in an ebb and tide of amorous exhaustion.

Horses ceased their nickering, birds broke their song when Octavia Prudentia's Rosamund Caledonia Azura Rydessa Trevelyan's celestial cadence grazed their ears.

"Oh James," she cried, a weak hand wiping the crystal of sweat from her proportioned forehead, "my body shall no longer withstand your loving libido.  I fear I need some rest."

Her lover peeked out from under his enigmatic blue fleece hood, the only garment covering the sturdy five-foot two of masculinity. "Had your ruffles rocked enough, my formerly virginal vixen?" Hips stilling, he withdrew, the friction of his hot iron drawing the umpteenth grand final from Octavia Prudentia's body. Her frail frame curled with the intensity of her pleasure as she sang out her praise once more in entirely virtuous expletives.

"Hush, my darling damsel," James crooned, his manly falsetto wrenching a tidal wave of aftershocks from her. "You've earned a break, though I'll miss the plush pillows of your bosom." Rising, he grabbed a towel, wide and long yet barely able to cover his lusty loins. "I shan't lie to you, my fiery little cracker- more need rests in me yet. But with your blessing I shall return once you've recovered and we'll get those stables shaking again."

"I'll be here, every last bit of me waiting for you," the voluptuous wench wailed, a coy flush painting her skin once more at the saucy suggestion. Shaking her head in wonder, she watched him _float_ down the stairs, towel standing to attention just like the fleshy beast it concealed, ready to advance and conquer.

As soon as his dainty feet touched upon the courtyard the wind stilled, birds stopped in mid-air and conversations ended.

And the smart scout wasted not a second. Squinting perceptively, he set eyes on the first target to be granted the joys of his efforts.

"That's some nice plaidweave," he asserted. "How about I rip that right off that perky posterior of yours?"

He would have indulged her and the world in his charms for longer, had he not looked straight at the tip of an arrow. Sharp as his wit, it was pointed with painstaking precision at the imposing dent in the towel at his hips.

"Like having bollocks, yeah?" Sera drawled, chewing on the sad remains of a meaty sausage. "Then back off."

Had one looked closely, a miniscule pearl of perspiration may have made itself apparent trickling down our hero's frowny forehead. Though a heavy swallow distorted his words, a stammered _misunderstanding_ could be heard.

But Jim wouldn't have been Jim had he let this episode stop him. Furry feet tightened their hold on rugged soil and bulky biceps flexed. A moment passed in tense silence before a single call shook the entire foundations of Skyhold Fortress. Brash and bold, his voice combined the urgency of a troop of rampant nugs and the predatory greed of a lone fennec at springtime. Echoing off the walls, gates, even the trees, his mysterious mantra carried across the castle grounds.

And it drew them.

From all corners, down the highest stairs, out of the deepest cellars emerged the females. Blonde and brown, rough and refined, slim and stocky, they came flocking, heeding their salacious saviour's mighty mating cry.

Before long the haughty hood-bearer stood surrounded. Garments flew, bands ripped, and the lonely loin cloth was torn to a thousand shreds. Eager hands and sloppy tongues reached for the sassy scout, a choir of thirsty throats calling for his velveteen lips, his hairy hands, and above all his raging rod.

It took no more than an eye's blink for Jim to immerse himself in the first frenzied female. A giddy squeal escaped the chiseled chambermaid as he plunged right into her harrowed hollow. His mighty meat machete filled her to the brim, drawing moan after classy moan from the damsel. Within a minute he had the lusty lass shrieking, tears streaming down her face as la petite mort ravaged her body.

When the girl lay at his feet in lifeless bliss, James withdrew, patting his lavish length. His hoarse whisper was but the sweetest music to the greedy gathering's ears.

"So... who's next?"

The sentence was barely spoken when an avalanche of femininity crashed upon Jim. Four, five, nay, _half a dozen_ lustful ladies descended on the frisky fellow- on his loins, face, hands, even his toes.

Unmistakeable utterances filled the air; a song of satisfaction, sung by familiar voices. 

"My, what an, _oh_!" sounded the cry of Minaeve, ever-versed in creatures large and small.  "Never have I encountered such a delightful speci- _ah_! Yes! Those muscles! And that purple tentacl- _oh_!"

Her tirade overlapped with the bard's anthem, accompanied by the sounds of flesh slapping in a staggering staccato. Windows burst all around, horses bucking at Maryden's shrill falsetto hitting its high just as she did.

And none other than Mother Giselle herself praised their saviour in a salacious sermon as he baptised them all with his love cream. _Holy Andraste_ , her Reverence cried- or was it _Oh, my arse, eh_?

With all of Skyhold's females piled up on the luxurious Jim mattress, the spectacle attracted doubtful, if curious, attention from the men. Commander Rutherford in particular, haplessly cuckolded earlier, offered but a snarl and a grumble. The vein at the curly boy-wonder's forehead bulged in a poor imitation of the lance spearing the women a few feet away.

Not all men seemed to take offense, however, for Warden Blackwall himself was reported to have dived into the festivities head- or rather bottom first, presenting his furry derriere for a feisty flagellation.

So energetic and lively were the passionate proceedings, it was later said that The Iron Bull's missing eye was lost not in battle as he would have tavern patrons believe but fell victim to an embellished button projectile-popping from a bursting bodice. Indeed the delightful debauchery attracted all kinds of species: As rumour had it, One-Eyed Jimmy was spotted spouting his anger at Lord Woosley as he struggled to drag the randy ram away from the heap of bodies.

The orgasmic orgy carried on well into the night; grunts, moans and the odd Andrastian litany ringing far beyond the mountains. Quiet only fell over the lands as morning broke and the concubine congregation found themselves thoroughly fatigued.

Though the lucky lasses were proudly marked by teeth, fingers and less distinguishable body parts, their hooded owner had vanished without a single trace. Only legends remained, titillating tales that would heat eyes and loins for many years to come.

It wasn't until months later that the Inquisition realised the true blessing the Maker had granted them when dozens of women bore an army of hooded babes; fearless soldiers who would lead their Herald through thick and thin, hot and sweaty as well as buxom and busty.

And thus stood to proud attention the lusty legacy of Jim, the Potent Prophet.

____________________________

"That blighted dwarf!" Fine flakes of dust whirled through the air as the linen-covered volume slammed shut. "I'll have him assigned to kitchen duty for three weeks," the Commander pressed out between gritted teeth as he rose from his desk.

A giggle stopped him in his tracks. "You mean to say," the Inquisitor ran a gloved finger down his breastplate, "you didn't like his characterisations, my _curly boy-wonder_?"

Cullen tilted his head, frowning. "Please," he grumbled, "I don't even know where to begin, it was that awful."

His love's grin widened as she stepped closer. "I don't know- I found some of the descriptions rather," her lips just so brushed his ear, " _inspiring_."

A smirk on his own formed on his lips as his arms opened to accommodate her slim frame pressing into him. "You can't be serious," he mumbled into her hair. _Not that he minded._

"Why," she retorted, a hand sneaking down his hip, "wouldn't you enjoy my loving attentions on your..." a press at his midriff, "... meat machete?" Encouraged by his groan, she continued, squeezing her chest deeper against him. "Or _run your hairy hands over my milky mounds_?"

Evelyn startled when his body's warmth left her as Cullen went to lock the doors. When he closed in on her, the smile returned as she backed up against the desk. "You might end up having to thank Varric."

Cullen's hum tickled across her skin as he enveloped her in heat and fur.

"We shall see about that."

**Author's Note:**

> Congratulations! If you've managed to read this far I'm awarding you the Golden Glory Gherkin.


End file.
